


I Only Remember the Fridge-Johnlock AU

by deanloveshimsomepie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, hardcore angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanloveshimsomepie/pseuds/deanloveshimsomepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was kidnapped and tortured. He escaped from his prison and has found John Watson again! <br/>Sherlock and John are reunited, but is his mind the same as it was before?<br/>Very much angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Only Remember the Fridge-Johnlock AU

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first legitimate angst fic I've ever tried to write, so I hope it's not too shabby.   
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS. I DO NOT MAKE ANY PROFIT.

“Sherlock, we can’t keep doing this.”

“John, shut up. I’m thinking.”

John groaned.

John and Sherlock had gotten into many tight spots such as this before. Each and every time, John’s heart had been thudding in his chest until it was over, and afterwards had made Sherlock promise that it would never happen again.

They were sitting on a rooftop, scouting a potential villain. Unfortunately, this was the real deal, and there were guards around the place, something neither Sherlock nor John had anticipated. They were flat on their stomachs, trying not to breathe, for if they moved an inch- as Sherlock had very well explained- they might get blown to pieces by a motion detector they had passed by with great luck.

“Okay, John. Snake crawl 20 feet to the right.” Sherlock pointed at a small pillar.

John started. “Sherlock, I could get blown up.”

“I am aware, John.”

John opened his mouth then decided not to bother. He crawled and made it safely.

Sherlock took a deep breath, started forward and-

“ _Look! Someone’s there!”_

_“Should I shoot or-“_

_“Don’t shoot. He can be a hostage…maybe someone will come look for him…we can get a ransom.”_

John stared wide-eyed at Sherlock, who was caught in a bright white beam of light. What he saw wasn’t reassuring. Sherlock’s eyes were panicked, and John could tell he couldn’t find a way out of this one. Then Sherlock looked straight into John’s eyes, and as he did so, he pulled his scarf off of his neck and threw it to him, and John caught it, silently screaming. As a helicopter carried Sherlock away, John’s last glimpse of him was Sherlock mouthing one word: “ _Run._ ”

\-----oOo-----

Over the next two years, John had been searching for Sherlock-a sign-anything. He found nothing.

Until one day, a client came to the door. John took them himself now, and was surprisingly good at solving crime. Sherlock must’ve rubbed off on him.          

It was a blonde, pretty woman. Her name, she said, was Mary Morstan. She came to talk about a strange sight she had seen…a ghost, she said. The ghost of a man with a long black coat. She described him as skinny to the point of dying of malnourishment, with a beard so full it seemed like he had never seen a razor in his life. She also said…

He had black curls and eyes like the ocean.

John’s interest perked. Mary said she had seen him wandering the forest behind her house, and said he was there one second, gone the next. Like a candle being blown out and relit again…

John went to investigate at her house that night.

He stayed up for hours, completely alert, and he saw it. A shadow of a black-coated man with dark curls pacing, just like he used to do at the flat. John opened his mouth in shock.

“Sh-Sherlock..?” he called out nervously.

The figure did not stop pacing and suddenly-disappeared.

John jumped up. “No!” he cried. “Come back!” and he ran into the trees.

He saw shimmers of the ghostly figure ahead, and he followed. For how many hours, John did not know, but ran far into the woods until he had no chance of getting out without help.

The figure ahead stumbled and fell onto the dirt and John about ran over him.

John skidded to a stop and stared at the figure sprawled on the floor. The man was real, he realized, and he was also mumbling nonsensically, “No, no, no, please, no more…I want to go back home, _please_ let me go back...no one is coming for me no one is going to save me there is no reason to have me with you I won’t tell anyone I swear to God I won’t just _please, please, please”_

“Sherlock?” John breathed in fascination… and horror.

“ _Please, no_ …” and the man broke down, sobbing on his knees. Tears made tracks of clear water in the dirt on the man’s face, and John suddenly realized…he never disappeared. He was so dirty that when he wasn’t moving, he looked almost invisible in the night.

“Sherlock Holmes.” John said firmly, but not unkindly.

And for the first time, the mumbling stopped and the man looked up. His eyes were crazy to say the least, and his lips were trembling like John had ever seen them before, but it was Sherlock. It was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock stared uncomprehendingly into John’s eyes, suddenly snapping back to reality, or at least part of it.

“That’s not my name,” Sherlock told him uncertainly, and John winced. “My name…my name is 48903A.”

John’s eyes started to water. “No,” John’s voice broke.

“Are you here to hurt me?” Sherlock whispered.

“Sherlock…no, of course not. Sherlock, what have they done to you?” John started sobbing.

But then it finally hit him. Hit him in the gut so hard John almost doubled over. A thought… _Sherlock did not know who he was._

**Author's Note:**

> Ohoo how about a mild cliffhanger...  
> Remember to bookmark and leave kudos and comments :)


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